“Colonel de Haldimar, that I am no traitor, as I have already told you, the Almighty God, before whom I swore allegiance to his Majesty, can bear me witness.  Appearances, I own, are against me; but, so far from being a traitor, I would have shed my last drop of blood in defence of the garrison and your family.—­Colonel de Haldimar,” he pursued, after a momentary pause, in which he seemed to be struggling to subdue the emotion which rose, despite of himself, to his throat, “I repeat, I am no traitor, and I scorn the imputation—­but here is my best answer to the charge.  This wound, (and he unbuttoned his jacket, opened his shirt, and disclosed a deep scar upon his white chest,) this wound I received in defence of my captain’s life at Quebec.  Had I not loved him, I should not so have exposed myself, neither but for that should I now stand in the situation of shame and danger, in which my comrades behold me.”

Every heart was touched by this appeal—­this bold and manly appeal to the consideration of the Governor.  The officers, especially, who were fully conversant with the general merit of Halloway, were deeply affected, and Charles de Haldimar—­the young, the generous, the feeling Charles de Haldimar,—­even shed tears.

“What mean you, prisoner?” interrogated the Governor, after a short pause, during which he appeared to be weighing and deducing inferences from the expressions just uttered.  “What mean you, by stating, but for that (alluding to your regard for Captain de Haldimar) you would not now be in this situation of shame and danger?”

The prisoner hesitated a moment; and then rejoined, but in a tone that had less of firmness in it than before,—­“Colonel de Haldimar, I am not at liberty to state my meaning; for, though a private soldier, I respect my word, and have pledged myself to secrecy.”

“You respect your word, and have pledged yourself to secrecy!  What mean you, man, by this rhodomontade?  To whom can you have pledged yourself, and for what, unless it be to some secret enemy without the walls?  Gentlemen, proceed to your duty:  it is evident that the man is a traitor, even from his own admission.—­On my life,” he pursued, more hurriedly, and speaking in an under tone, as if to himself, “the fellow has been bribed by, and is connected with—.”  The name escaped not his lips; for, aware of the emotion he was betraying, he suddenly checked himself, and assumed his wonted stern and authoritative bearing.

Once more the prisoner addressed the Governor in the same clear firm voice in which he had opened his appeal.

“Colonel de Haldimar, I have no connection with any living soul without the fort; and again I repeat, I am no traitor, but a true and loyal British soldier, as my services in this war, and my comrades, can well attest.  Still, I seek not to shun that death which I have braved a dozen times at least in the ——­ regiment.  All that I ask is, that I may not be tried—­that I may not have the shame of hearing sentence pronounced against me yet; but if nothing should occur before eight o’clock to vindicate my character from this disgrace, I will offer up no further prayer for mercy.  In the name of that life, therefore, which I once preserved to Captain de Haldimar, at the price of my own blood, I entreat a respite from trial until then.”